'Titian: Love, Desire, Death' at the National Gallery

The new exhibition at the National Gallery is 'Titian: Love, Desire, Death' which brings together Titian's 'poesie' series of paintings for the first time in nearly 500 years. The paintings are all of mythological scenes based on the tales of Ovid and others. The exhibition is basically in two rooms in the main gallery, the first does some scene setting explaining the background to the paintings and Titian's relationship with Phillip II of Spain, his patron at the time, and the paintings are all in the next room, seven large paintings in gilded frames.

Seven paintings? you might ask, but the 'poesie' series includes only six paintings. To which the National Gallery replies that it's included its 'Death of Actaeon' in the London exhibition since it was originally conceived as part of the series but was actually painted later. I don't know if it will be part of the exhibition when it moves on to other museums but it fits in nicely with the rest of the series. One of the other paintings is 'Diana and Actaeon' showing the moment when the young hunter Actaeon stumbles across the goddess bathing in the woods. For that sin the goddess turns him into a stag and he's attacked and killed by his own hunting dogs. In the 'Death' painting we can see Actaeon in the middle distance with the head of a stag, caught mid-transformation as Diana shoots him and his dogs attack him.

I prefer the painting in which Actaeon finds the goddess for the brighter colours and all the details, such as the nymph peeking from behind a pillar and the little lapdog growling and baring its teeth at the intruder.

Another scene of transformation is 'The Rape of Europa' and a detail of that painting is on the poster for the exhibition. The story behind the painting isn't the most pleasant but it's a lovely painting. Zeus has turned himself into a bull to capture Europa, his latest lust, who he carries off. Poor Europa looks very unsteady on the bull's back, her scarf whipping in the wind and little cupids doing their best to try to make it a love scene, but it's not. My favourite cupid is the one riding the dolphin in the sea, lower left.

A painting I hadn't seen before was 'Danae' with its dramatic light and dark sections. It shows Danae being visited by Zeus as a golden shower and who then gives birth to Perseus. There's a lovely contrast between the light, luminous Danae and the old, weathered woman looking after her (and not doing a very good job of it with Zeus around - you can't trust him around beautiful young women).

There's a little bit extra Titian in the way the exhibition is laid out in London. You exit through the shop and then into Room 8 of the Gallery which has been re-hung with the other Titian paintings the National Gallery owns. So, if you're looking for any Titian paintings, that's where they are for the moment (and the room is open to the public). To add context, paintings by other leading contemporary artists are also on display, including Michelangelo, Sebastiano (the huge 'Lazarus' painting), Parmigianino and Andrea del Sarto. It was a nice surprise to leave the exhibition only to have yet more Titians to look at.

Once it closes in London, the exhibition is travelling up to Edinburgh (two of the paintings are jointly owned by the National Galleries of Scotland with the National Gallery in London), then goes to the Prado in Madrid (which owns a painting) and then to the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in Boston (it owns 'The Rape of Europa'). 

Velazquez, Rembrandt, Vermeer - Parallel Visions at the Prado, Madrid

A very busy blockbuster of an exhibition at the Prado in Madrid at the moment is 'Velazquez, Rembrandt, Vermeer - Parallel Visions'. From the big names in the title you'd be forgiven for thinking that all the paintings would be by those big three of the 17th Century but they're not. The exhibition also includes many paintings by other artists including Frans Hals, Nicholas Maes, Murillo and Zurbaran to name just four. The exhibition attempts to show how the three big names (and others) had a shared vision of how to develop art and the direction painting should go in and it finds paintings that help to justify this vision.

My heart sank a little when I first walked into the exhibition to be faced with a long wall full of paintings of mainly bearded men and some women dressed in black with white ruffs. Who on earth came up with such a boring fashion choice? This was summed up by one of the first paintings, 'Anatomy Lesson of Dr Sebastiaen Eghertsz' by Aert Pietersz. I'm sure these paintings must have their merits but they're not for me thank you.

Further on there was an interesting painting called 'Democratus' by Hendrick ter Brugghen which is basically a right arm and a bald head. I wonder what made him choose that pose?

The beauty is in the detail. Just look at the folds of loose skin at the wrist, the wrinkled skin of the fingers and the much smoother skin of the arm stretched over slight muscles. The right shoulder is excellent, hinting at the complex musculature underneath the skin, the contours and slight shadows. That is a good arm in anyone's book.

Democritus is also clearly discussing something with someone out of the picture, with his left hand gesturing while he lounges against a globe. The darker, exposed skin of his forehead is furrowed and his bearded mouth is open, mid word. It's an impressive painting.

One of the biggies of the exhibition is 'The Geographer' by Vermeer from 1669.

We see a geographer leaning over a map with his tools,with a globe behind him and other paraphernalia. His face is slightly blurred, suggesting movement and excitement perhaps? Has he just realised or discovered something?

There are the inevitable Dutch still lives and flower paintings and this part of the exhibition was particularly crowded, being in a sort of cul de sac in the gallery space. I gave the paintings the once over but the only one that made me look twice was this strange painting by Zurbaran, 'Still Life with Vessels' from 1650. I think the thing that caught my attention was the vase on the far right and it's textured surface - this photo doesn't really give you much of a feeling for what it was really like.

Rembrandt is represented by the inevitable self-portrait as a middle aged man but the painting I've chosen to include here is his painting of his wife, 'A Woman Bathing In A Stream' from 1654 on loan from the National Gallery in London.  There's something about this painting that grabs the attention. A woman in her shift, cut low and pulled up around her thighs so there's no particular nakedness compared to many other paintings of women but this seems particularly personal and intimate.

I wonder if Rembrandt made his wife stand like that in a stream, or maybe in a bath tub in his studio, to get it just right. In an age of puritans did she feel uncomfortable exposing her thighs like that or was she used to her husband's ways by then?

Not far from it is a long, thin painting by Velazquez, roughly life sized, of 'Mars'. Just look at that healthy skin tone, the body and the blue of the loin cloth. The thing that really intrigued me was the face, covered in shadow from the martial helmet, and, in particular, the impressive moustache.  In a body free from hair where does this tache come from? It's really impressive and long. I wonder if the model had a tache like this or whether he was chosen since his face could take it being added?

It's not the most muscular or masculine of bodies but the physicality of it is quite impressive, particularly since he's not actually doing anything other sitting for his portrait to be painted. The god of war having a rest but keeping his helmet on. There must be a story behind this painting but I don't know what it is.

One of the final paintings in the exhibition is 'A Civil Guardsman holding a Berkemeier (the Merry Drinker)' by Frans Hals from 1628-30. Let's face it, this guardsman has been doing more than simply holding a glass, he's been drinking from it and probably isn't much good as a guardsman at the moment. Judging from his ruddy complexion he's already had a few and fully intends to have a few more. I hope he's finished his shift on guard by the time he indulges. He's clearly in a good mood, raising his glass to us, the viewer, several centuries after he left this world. I was quite pleased that this was the last painting I took notice of in the exhibition, a drinking partner offering me a last glass before I went home. Thanks mate, I don't mind if I do!

This isn't my favourite period in art by any means but I'm pleased I saw this exhibition. It shows that there's always something to enjoy and engage with if you actually take the trouble to look. 

'Emociones' Flamenco at Teatro Alfil, Madrid

Have you ever seen a live flamenco show in front of you, guitar and singing, feet stamping and the dancers pulling dramatic poses and tapping their feet one thousand times a second? No, I hadn't until last week and now I want to see more! I went to see a show called 'Emociones' at the Flamenco Theatre, Teatro Alfil in Madrid, a staged flamenco show in a small theatre. There were five artistes and all had their own solos, one guitarist, two singers and two dancers. They all joined in the floor stomping though, and the occasional impromptu 'ole'!

I had no real idea what to expect from the evening. I've only ever seen snatches of flamenco dancing on TV shows or in films, never a full dance or a full show. It started with the two singers singing unaccompanied and then the guitar joined them before the two dancers came out to join in the fun. I've got no idea what the songs were about but they sounded dramatic and would've been about love and loss - what else could they be about? Then the dancing started, the lad in a suit and the woman in a red frock with a great train she had to keep kicking expertly out of the way of both their feet.

The evening continued with a dance then a song, then a guitar solo and more dances and songs, with some costume changes in between. How on earth can you tap your feet so fast that they're a blur? Plenty of practice! The lad had a long, exuberant dance, full of drama and passion and then the girl did her solo and she was just as dramatic and even more passionate since she gets the best arm and hand gestures, with her arms above her head, partially vulnerable and part ready to fight for her love.

As the show built and built the tension and excitement increased right across the audience - including me - so when the lights went out at the end loads of people jumped to their feet to give a rousing appreciative applause. It was fantastic. It was thrilling! Passion was dripping off that stage and I could see the sweat on their faces and clothes, that was a full-on performance. I went to the middle performance out of three that night and I have no idea where the energy comes from. They left me wanting more.

Sadler's Wells stages a festival of flamenco each summer and next year I'll be there. This is life-affirming stuff, people, and we all need that. 

Four Northern Renaissance Paintings at the Prado, Madrid

The Museo del Prado in Madrid has a great collection of paintings from the Northern Renaissance, the countries around Holland, Belgium and Germany in the 1400s and 1500s. That's not too surprising in a way since Spain used to rule over some of those countries so it's only to be expected that some of the glorious art works found their way into Spanish collections. It has room after room on the ground floor full of these paintings, so very different to the Italian Renaissance paintings in rooms nearby. I've chosen four paintings that I particularly like, starting off with Jan Gossaert's 'Christ Blessing, the Virgin Mary and Saint John the Baptist' from 1510-1520.

The thing that always grabs my attention is the delicacy of the figure of Christ in the middle, the serenity and stillness. Is he blessing the Virgin? If so, why? And why is John pointing at Christ? It's an odd composition, especially with the angel popping through the round opening above Christ's head. Maybe it was painted to go above the doorway into a private chapel of something like that, so you receive your blessing for going into the chapel? I really don't know, but it's not a painting I find I can just glance at and walk past, once glanced at I need to look properly.

An earlier painting is 'The Descent from the Cross' by Rogier van der Weyden, painted before 1443. We see Christ being held by Joseph of Arimathia and Nicodemus, Saint John aiding the fainting Virgin and, I think, Mary Magdalene being distraught on the far side of Christ (in Italian paintings of the time her hair would be loose). The figures are almost life-sized and that makes the painting even more dominating. The Virgin's figure reflects that of her son as he hangs limply before he reaches the ground. What would you think if you saw this hanging in a church surrounded by flickering candles reflecting the gold background and the rich colours, the sight of your lord who gave his life to save yours? It must have been a powerful image back then.  

Heironomous Bosch, known simply as El Bosco in Spain, is a great favourite at the Prado and has a room to himself that houses some of his greatest paintings, including 'The Garden of Earthly Delights'.

The painting is constantly surrounded by viewers several deep so you've got to be patient in order to see it properly and up close. It's a triptych of three scenes showing paradise, earth and hell, all with so much weirdness you can only wonder what sort of magic mushrooms El Bosco ate. It's odd since it's this painting that people crowd around leaving his other works easy to see up close - this is his 'big hit' that people know but you can learn a lot about him from the other paintings as well.

The Prado held a major exhibition of El Bosco's work three years ago that was sold out and opening hours had to be extended due to popular demand. I was lucky enough to get tickets and enjoyed the exhibition but it was too crowded to be able to view the works in comfort. I enjoyed seeing his paintings much more now that they're hanging together in a single room without the crowds.

A final painting I want to show you is this self-portrait by Albrecht Durer from 1498. Here he is, a young man, assured and confident, dressed richly like an aristocrat and with his life ahead of him. It shows his Italian influences with the three-quarter pose and the landscape through the window.

It's also a bit of a show-off painting using himself as the poster-boy for his workshop. If you look under the window there's some text inscribed on the wall. This says, "1498, I painted this after my image, I was twenty six, Albrecht Durer". So, the show off was only 26 when he painted this astonishing self-portrait. He had an interesting and largely rewarding life ahead of him and he left behind a great body of work. Surely we're due a Durer exhibition sometime soon?

I first came across this self-portrait when I was 16 at school (along with the van der Weyden 'Descent' painting) and was disappointed on my first visit to the Prado three years ago when it was out on loan so I didn't see it. I've seen it since though.

There are dozens of other Northern paintings on display in the ground floor galleries but these are the four I wanted to share. 

Rubens at the Prado, Madrid

Rubens was Philip IV's favourite painter and that explains why the Prado has such a big collection of Rubens' paintings, around 90 of them. A goodly number are on display in the Prado but most are in storage. He was a prolific painter, with a workshop to match but I've chosen just three paintings to represent those in the Prado's collection. Firstly, a very large 'Adoration of the Magi', first painted in 1609.

It's a busy painting with a lot going on. The centre of the painting is given over to one of the Magi in his red robe but that wasn't the original intention. Rubens repainted the painting when he stayed at the Spanish court in 1628-29 and he added a broad strip of canvas along the top and down the right hand side (you can see the slight indents if you look at it carefully). He also included a self-portrait in the painting - the man with a beard on the horse at the top right corner is Rubens.

It's interesting that there are two bright highlights in the painting, one is on the small baby on the left and the other is on the servant's chest to the right. The two servants are clearly straining carrying the gifts of the Magi and these aren't gym-toned bodies, these are the bodies of working men. It's a bit of a stark contrast having them right at the front of the scene, almost naked while the Magi are wrapped in various layers of rich robes. It's quite an impressive painting and rewards careful viewing.

Rubens was a fan of Titian and, when he was in Spain in 1628-29 made some copies of Titians paintings, including his 'Adam and Eve'. The Prado hangs both paintings side by side for a closer inspection. Rubens' version is on the right here and you can see that he changed Adam's body to give him more musculature and a more contemporary head, he's also added a nice red parrot for some reason. Other than that, it's a remarkable copy, even down to the flowers and the snake baby in the tree.

Finally, here are 'The Three Graces', painted between 1630-35, and which was in his own personal collection until his death. Whether you like Rubens plump ladies or not, just look at that luminescent skin tone, almost glowing with vitality as the three ladies engage in some deep philosophical discussions. They were the daughters of Zeus and represented various feminine attributes, including grace, charm and beauty.

It's a large painting and that's a lot of flesh on display. I quite like that Rubens kept this painting for himself, possibly showing it to friends now and then, but not selling it like so many of his works. Clearly he worked to commissions and that's how he made his living but it's also nice that he painted for himself sometimes.

There you are, three paintings by Rubens, ably demonstrating the wealth of art that the Prado has within its walls, and these are just a fraction of the paintings by Rubens it has in its collection.

Bartolomé Bermejo at the National Gallery

There's a small exhibition about 'Bartolomé Bermejo: Master of the Spanish Renaissance' on at the National Gallery at the moment. It's one of its 'Room 1' exhibitions with everything in one room, namely Room 1 near the old main entrance. I quite like these small exhibitions since they focus down on a few works by an artist, often someone you've not come across before or know only vaguely. That's Bermejo to me.

The first thing I learned about him was that he wasn't actually called Bermejo and that 'bermejo' means 'reddish' in Spanish. His real name was Bartolome de Cardenas and he may have been Jewish who converted to Christianity before or during the Spanish Inquisition. He seems to have lived between about 1440 - 1501 but the records aren't very exact with historians assuming he died soon after the last documented mention of him. He certainly seems to have sought sanctuary from the Inquisition in Barcelona and the surrounding areas.

There are four works in the exhibition and the centrepiece is the rather tall and thin 'St Michael Triumphant' in his elaborate and very shiny armour as he defeats and casts out evil. His golden armoured feet are on the poster advertising the exhibition. It's an odd painting in many ways, particularly showing the kneeling donor well within scope of Michael's swinging sword poised for the killing blow. The shiny, elaborate armour and the many folds in the flying cloak capture our attention.

The long, thin, body of the warrior angel doesn't look terribly Spanish or, for that matter, Italian. It looks rather Flemish, somewhere in the traditions of the Northern Renaissance. There's no evidence, it seems, that he travelled north to study with the Flemish or German painters so how did he learn how to paint like this and why? The exhibition suggests that he studied the Flemish paintings that were coming into Spain but how did he do this? He wasn't a name and was quite itinerant so how did he get access to them? I suspect there's a lot more digging to be done around Bermejo.

The first work in the exhibition is the 'Triptych of the Virgin of Montserrat' that shows five religious scenes, with the Virgin and Child taking the central panel with a lovely landscape behind them. The landscape is rather detailed and ornate, more decorative than realistic but is that surprising given the scene and the rest of the triptych? I couldn't see what was on the outside of the two wings so I'll check the book about the show the next time I'm in the Gallery. I also can't remember who the archer-type bloke in the bottom right panel is meant to be so I'll check him as well.

A single large panel called the 'Despla Pieta' is so named because the local bishop of Barcelona, Despla, commissioned it and featured to the Virgin's right side. He, apparently, invited Bermejo to work in Barcelona to get away from the worst of the Inquisition in central Spain. I like the very round glasses the bishop is wearing and his studious reading of holy texts while his lord lies dying in front of him, somehow held up in the arms of a presumably old woman. Again there's a wonderful landscape in the background and the sugarloaf mountains of Monserrat in the far distance. This was the latest work in the small exhibition, dated from 1490 and I think you can tell from the detail and the quality of the painting.

The final work of the exhibition are four panels that would, presumably, have been side panels to a grand altarpiece but the central panel is missing. The panels show the 'Descent of Christ into Limbo', 'Christ with the Just in Paradise' (opposite), the 'Resurrection' and the 'Ascension'. The panels are dated between 1470-75, so were completed at around the same time as the 'Virgin of Montserrat' but I think the triptych is of far better quality. The spindly characters reminded me a bit of Bosch's characters (El Bosco). The scene shows Adam (the old man at the front) kissing Christ's hand, presumably in thanks for saving them all from eternity in Limbo. It seems a bit odd that the first Man should be kneeling as a supplicant to his descendant as well as his god. It's also odd that they're all naked with both Adam and Christ having some gauzy material that doesn't quite cover their modesty.

So there we have it, a small but carefully put together exhibition about Bermejo, the 'reddish' artist from Spain. It doesn't seem like a lot is known about him or maybe a lot is known but it hasn't been translated from Spanish? I suspect most of the academic works are in Spanish. Before this exhibition I was only familiar with the the 'Altarpiece of St Dominic of Silos' with the saint having a rather droopy oblong face surrounded by his finery and I saw that in the Prado in Madrid a few weeks ago. This exhibition has added another four works to my knowledge bank. I will go back and take another look the next time I'm in the National Gallery and have some time to spare.

Museo Sorolla in Madrid

I wasn't aware of Joaquin Sorolla until I saw the great exhibition of his work at the National Gallery earlier this year so when in Madrid last week I took the opportunity to visit his house that is now Museo Sorolla. It's about a 45 minutes walk north of the Prado, out in a residential district but with the traffic of a capital city all around.

Walk through the gate in the high brick wall and you find yourself in a delightful small garden with a fountain in the middle. Follow the signs to the right into another small garden with another fountain, statues, trees, shrubs and flowers and the dappled sunlight of Madrid. Walk past a little seating area and into the shop to buy a ticket for €3 and then walk out into the garden again to go up some lovely tiled steps and into the house.

The house is decorated and furnished as it was in Sorolla's day and you're instantly taken back 100 years in the quiet of the house, with it's high ceilings and relief from the heat and sun outside. Spacious corridors and rooms with ornate vases and statues on the furniture, large windows and with Sorolla's paintings on the walls. Some rooms are roped off so you only look at them from the doorway whereas you can walk into others to find the walls covered in paintings, usually quite high up on the walls above the tables and cupboards that belong in those rooms.

As I've come to expect from the National Gallery exhibition, many of the paintings are of Sorolla's wife and children, often outdoors but also some more formal portrait paintings. The walls were crammed with paintings but I really liked this one of his wife on the beach with lots of white in the parasol and dress for Corolla to play with the light and create highlights where he wanted on the dress and in the sea. It can't have been comfortable being dressed like that in a Spanish summer - women were so brave back then.

The walls are packed with paintings, as you can see above, with this painting of his daughter (Emelia, I think, the youngest daughter).

A painting that really caught my attention was this one called simply 'Fisherwomen'. It's quite large and dominates the second room along with another portrait of Sorolla's wife. It's easy to imagine these women waiting on the shore for their men to arrive with boats (hopefully) laden with fish that they will have to transport to market or to store, possibly to gut and prepare. They get the dirty work but they look hardy and ready for it.

It's not just the play of light or painting outdoors that made a painter an 'impressionist', it was also the choice of subject matter. The French Impressionists chose everyday scenes to paint, portraits of their friends, evenings out, workers and railways, factories and farmers. Sorolla's choice of subject matter is often interesting for it's own sake.

Upstairs on the next floor is a series of rooms that hold 223 small paintings on the walls that Sorolla did as sketches or notebook works to remind him of subject matter or colour combinations that he could use in larger works.

These paintings are all relatively small, individually framed in a variety of styles and hung together. Some were postcard sized and some were A4 sized - I don't think any were larger than A4 - and were of all sorts of subjects. Some were landscapes, some were of boats on dappled water, some flowers and gardens, swimmers, crowds... you name it, it was in there somewhere. Apparently he used them as reference pieces for his other paintings, seeing how colours worker together, clashed or complimented.

I was very impressed with some of these paintings, some clearly just dashed off and others were really more like careful studies, but all so small. Some are, apparently, painted on radom bits of cardboard, any material he found could be turned into a painting. I think all were painted in oils but I wonder what size brushes he used for these?

After seeing these lovely sketches you exit down what I assume were the servants' staircase and exit through some other rooms that are furnished as they would have been, with more Sorolla paintings on the walls.

I particularly liked this painting of his front garden and the fountain near the gate through the brick wall. Do you recognise it? It's one of my photos above. It's more overgrown in this painting but it's the same garden. He must've loved living here, near the centre of the city but far enough away to have some privacy and solitude.

While I loved seeing all these new paintings by Sorolla, something I really enjoyed was simply being in his beautiful house. It felt comfortable and homely, somewhere his children probably felt good in growing up. It was lovely with the high ceilings and open rooms, windows on most walls and the lovely furnishings. He was clearly well off but he produced enough paintings to deserve it.

The way out of the museum is through what was probably the front door, so you have to double back to get to the shop to buy the obligatory postcards (I also bought a book about his works in English). The gardens are beautifully maintained and, in the covered seating area is a statue of Sorolla, watching people come and go through his gardens and his house. He's there with his palette as if he's about to paint his garden again. If I had that garden then I'd certainly be painting it as well.

It was only when I unpacked when I got home and was examining all the tickets and random bits of paper you collect on a trip away that I looked at the back of the entrance ticket. It's a painting of his wife - yet another painting, and one that wasn't on display in the house (that I noticed). How fitting and how he must've loved her to have painted her again and again over so many years. She was always beautiful in his eyes. Their great grandchildren will be my age - I wonder what they think of this museum dedicated to their family and heritage? I loved it and will certainly go back again.

'Fra Angelico and the Rise of the Florentine Renaissance' at the Prado, Madrid

This is the second great exhibition this year about the Florentine renaissance (the first being at the Alte Pinakothek in Munich) but this exhibition at the Prado focuses on Fra Angelico in the years 1420-1430 and his contribution to getting the renaissance underway in Florence, both in terms of developing new ways to paint and to his triumphs of storytelling. The centrepiece of the exhibition is the Prado's newly restored 'Annunciation' altarpiece and it is a glory to behold with Gabriel's glittering wings and the bright colours - we can only be grateful to those apprentices that would've spend days pounding rocks to extract the colours and prepare them for the Fra to carry out this amazing work. And, of course, to the restorers who've done such an amazing job.

One of the things that made this exhibition special for me was the number of Fra Angelico works on loan from all around North America and Europe, from places I would probably never go to and so never see the paintings. Paintings are loaned from the Hermitage in St Petersburg ('Virgin and Child' opposite, an early painting with gold background), from Fort Worth and Houston in Texas USA, from Yale University and San Diego in the USA, from Rotterdam and Frankfurt and Remagen. Paintings are also on loan from the great museums of the Met in New York, the National Gallery in London, the Vatican in Rome, the Uffizi in Florence and, of course, from Fra Angelico-central, San Marco in Forence. Works by other artists of the time are also on loan, of course, including a lovely little 'Annunciation' by Uccello from the Ashmolean in Oxford.

It's such a privilege to see the wide range of works exhibited and we should be grateful to the curators and teams that must've spent years preparing for this exhibition and negotiating the various loans.

The exhibition is about Fra Angelico and the vast majority of exhibits are by the good Fra. However, it also includes works by other contemporary artists to provide a more rounded picture of the time and how artists were developing and influencing each other. We see bas-reliefs by Donatello to illustrate how the Fra started to depict a more playful baby Jesus in paintings for the first time, paintings by his master Lorenzo Monaco, and examples of the gorgeous Florentine cloths that were being weaved and which the Fra depicted as clothes and drapery in paint.

There is a single painting by Masaccio, 'Saint Paul' (opposite)  since it's thought that his 'Adam and Eve' in the Brancacci Chapel in Florence influenced how the Fra depicted Adam and Eve in the 'Annunciation'. There is also an 'Annunciation' by Robert Campin to demonstrate how the scene was viewed differently in the traditions of the Northern Renaissance. There are many others, of course. The Fra was open to influences and he absorbed the ones that helped him develop his art and pave the way for subsequent artists. 

The first painting in the exhibition is a small 'Virgin and Child Enthroned' from 1411-12, i.e. before the Fra was ordained as a friar and took the name Giovanni, back when he was a teenage apprentice called Guido. This devotional piece was painted by the young Guido di Pietro while he was in Lorenzo Monaco's workshop, to Monaco's design but  painted by Guido. It was probably commissioned by the Alberti family in Florence since its coat of arms is prominently displayed at the bottom and may have been the central panel of a triptych. It's a lovely little painting and it's nice to see very early works from the Fra to begin to trace his development as an artist and story-teller.

Another early painting that I really like is the 'Crucifixion' from the Metropolitan Museum in New York. it was probably painted in 1418-20 so the Fra was still a very young man but, although it has a traditional golden background, he was already experimenting with the figures and positions he paints them in. Look at Mary Magdalene bending down behind the Virgin so you see mainly the top of her head and the head of the man holding the pole looking up at the daed Christ, head tilted right back. Something I always find strange is the little tuft of hair on the man's chest since body hair was so rarely included in paintings. The group is arranged in a circle around the base of the cross with the figures looking up while the Virgin collapses in shock at the front.

The next room is what I thought of as the London room since it included three golden panels with seven roundel paintings from the Courtauld collection and the five-panelled San Domenico predella and small roundel of St Romulus from the National Gallery. 

My favourite of the five panels is to the right of 'Christ in Glory' and shows the forerunners of Christ, saints and virgin martyrs. Out of all the many figures painted in the five panels only one looks out at the viewer and that is Moses, to the left of centre in the top row. I've never seen an explanation of why this is - it's not unusual for the Fra to paint a character looking out at the viewer but out of all these people, why only him? A reminder of the Old Testament commandments would be odd given that Christ came to provide a new Testament but there's probably a theological reason for it.

           

One thought I had about this predella and it being full of different biblical and historical characters was suggested by the label that said it was the Fra's first work after being ordained as a friar - is this a 'show off' painting? I think of 'show off' paintings as those that advertise the artist's skills - look what I can do and if you commission me I can do something of this quality for you. The Fra was demonstrating his painting skills but also his understanding of theological studies, putting characters in the right order of importance in the paintings. One of the many joys of the exhibition catalogue is that it attempts to name each character in the five panels, something Dillian Gordon did in the National Gallery catalogue (which is no longer in print for some reason).

The panels from the Courtauld are made up of seven small roundels (about four inches in diameter) with gold background. The choice of saints to portray is a bit unusual but the panels were commissioned for a convent so that might help explain it. I've always been quite fond of the Mary Magdalene figure who looks quite cross and is gesturing to her lord almost to say to the viewer, 'look at what you've done'. I also rather like the painting of an almost imperious St Catherine of Alexandria resting against her wheel.

In the next room there are two gorgeous Virgin & Child panels on adjacent walls, the 'Virgin of the Pomegranate', acquired by the Prado a couple of years ago, and the lovely 'Virgin of Humility' from the Thyssen-Bornemisza collection on loan to MNAC, Barcelona. 

The 'Virgin of the Pomegranate' is full of gorgeous blues and reds and gold, with the two angels holding up the cloth of gold wearing green. The rather chubby baby Jesus is helping himself to pomegranate seeds from his mother's hand (the baby is the image on the front of the plan of the museum for visitors at the front desk). The cloth of gold almost shimmers as you look at it and you can almost see the rich stitching if you look closely, the heavy drapery falling in complex folds around the Virgin. I particularly like the two angels whose job it is to hold that heavy cloth for all eternity, the green of their robes works well against the gold cloth, as they both look towards the Virgin and the playful baby. It's interesting that their wings are also painted mainly green. It's a very peaceful, contemplative painting and it's astonishing how those colours have stayed rich and bright over the nearly 600 years since it was painted.

On an adjacent wall is the most lovely 'Virgin of Humility' in it's golden tabernacle-style frame. I first saw this painting a few years ago at an exhibition of the Thyssen collection in Barcelona and have loved it ever since. We see the baby resting his head against his mother's cheek and gazing up at her, offering her a lily while the Virgin holds a vase of roses with a single lily. The cloth of gold is intricate in the way the folds fall and, again, is obviously rich and heavy. Three angels hold the cloth while two more sit at the Virgin's feet playing instruments. The angels holding the cloth aren't as prominent as those in the 'Pomegranate' panel and look rather too delicate to hold up that obviously heavy cloth but they manage to do so effortlessly. It really is a lovely painting.

The centrepiece of the exhibition is the newly restored 'Annunciation and Expulsion of Adam and Eve' altarpiece for San Domenico, the Fra's home church at the time and for which he completed three altarpieces. The restoration was carried out to celebrate the 200th anniversary of the Prado and no better painting in the collection could have been selected.

          

The altarpiece is a perfect example of the Fra's great contribution to pushing forward the Renaissance in Florence as well as his skilful story-telling. Brunelleschi's theories of perspective are evident in the architecture of the Virgin's room and the innovation of having the altarpiece as a square without gothic arches is the first example of this approach, soon to be followed by almost every artist. The prominent addition of Adam and Eve leaving the garden and, in effect, walking through the Virgin's garden, is another first for the Fra. 

I was particularly taken with Gabriel's golden wings that glittered with new life after the restoration. You can clearly see each individual feather in his wings and and they glow and glitter almost as if they're becoming still after flying. I stood there swaying from side to side to watch the feathers move and take turns shining - I don't know what the guards must have thought I was doing. I also liked the graceful folds in his robe and then lime green lining that shows at the bottom and the blue under-robe.

It was also lovely to see the bright light coming through the window in the room beyond the doorway and see the leaves of the trees in the garden outside. 

I suspect that when most people think of the 'Annunciation' they think of the Angel and the Virgin - I certainly do - so it was inspired to use the Adam and Eve section of the painting as the face of the exhibition. It features on the posters for the exhibition and is the cover of the catalogue. What a great idea. It also helps to emphasise that these characters are actually one third of the painting and are an important part of the biblical story, with the Virgin wiping away original sin and the baby to be born is the ultimate descendant of Adam and Eve and is the one who will eventually free them from eternity in Limbo. There's a lot that can be read into this painting.

Near the altarpiece was a copy of a contemporary book illustrating trees and flowers, showing that the detail the Fra included in the garden was part of a tradition and the flowers were real, not simply made up to look pretty. 

The restoration work is incredible, with the colours almost luminous, making the altarpiece much brighter than it was previously, almost like a veil has been lifted and we can see it properly for the first time. Thank you Prado and thank you Almudena Sanchez for carrying out the restoration. Thank you also to the American Friends of the Prado and the Friends of Florence for donating so much to the cost of the restoration.

The predella of the altarpiece has been removed and hung at eye height so we can more easily look at it and appreciate the smaller paintings showing scenes from the life of the Virgin. They are lovely little paintings and I really liked the Nativity scene with the kings obvious in their crowns and the lookers-on in contemporary Florentine dress just as the scene is set in a Tuscan landscape. Something I hadn't noticed before but now can because of the hanging of the predella is the small angel flying over the hillside at top-right calling to the shepherds. It's always worth looking at the details in paintings by Fra Angelico.

Further on through the exhibition you come to a three dimensional painting, almost life-sized of a 'Crucifixion with St Nicholas of Bari and St Francis'. This was exhibited in Florence for the first time after being restored and I saw it there last year. It puzzled me at the time, wondering what it had been cut out from but, it seems, this is how it was originally done, as a piece to stand out so that viewers can get closer to the crucifixion and almost be part of it. Sadly there's a lot of damage to the figure of St Nicholas but the red of the blood dripping from the cross is as bright a scarlet as you could want.

It was designed for a boys club at the time in Florence where the boys could channel their energies into singing religious songs and chants with this work in the background. I wonder what it must have felt like to be there at the time?

Also on display is one of the four reliquaries Fra Angelico painted for Santa Maria Novella in Florence. The four reliquaries were brought together in Boston, USA, last year for the first time in several hundred years.  Three of them can be seen in San Marco in Florence and the fourth is in the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in Boston. This reliquary is the 'Coronation of the Virgin' in which Christ crowns his mother as queen of heaven. It's very colourful and can almost glow under the right lights. St Thomas Aquinas looks out at the viewer, presumably exhorting the viewer to read the Bible or his other works. Along the bottom of the frame is a scene of six angels, the holy couple and the baby all in blue. The reliquaries are quite small so it's a testament to the Fra's skill that he can get so much detail into small paintings.

In the final room of the exhibition were two halves of what was thought to be a small, portable diptych, brought back together again - the two halves are in different museums in Detroit and in Newark. The paintings are pocket sized, just about the size of a modern day postcard, and one shows the Virgin and Child with Angels while the other shows St Dominic witnessing St Francis receiving the stigmata from the flying seraph. I couldn't find a photo of this work online so this is a photo I've taken of the piece from the catalogue. I thought the diptych was delightful and am grateful to be able to see these works when I am unlikely to ever travel to the museums that now hold them.

The final works in the exhibition are two luminous panels depicting the 'Marriage of the Virgin' and the 'Dormition of the Virgin', both in the bright colours I've come to expect from the Fra.

There is a lot going on in the 'Marriage' painting, with the young men on the left breaking sticks to try to find the new growth that will win the hand of the Virgin, the men pounding Joseph's back in jealousy that he won her hand, the priest looking sideways at Mary, presumably checking that she really wants to Mary the much older Joseph, so much storytelling. The colours are gorgeous with so much detail included, such as the gold embroidery on the priest's green robe. I suspect this is one of the problems of looking at paintings by Fra Angelico - we risk seeing only colourful, pretty pictures without recognising the complex storytelling and innovations in terms of how to tell the story, how he developed new approaches that subsequent artists took on and used and how he developed new ways of painting these stories.

I haven't really commented on the works of other artists included in this exhibition since I wanted to focus on the works by Fra Angelico - there are about 60 of his works in the exhibition so I've only scratched the surface and included some of my favourites. The focus on his work between 1420-1430 helps to illustrate that the Fra was still a young man and still learning and developing his art, soaking up and contributing to the artistic life and development of Florence which was bursting with new ideas at this time. This is all ably demonstrated by this exhibition and by the careful work of its curator, Carl Brandon Strehlke. Although you can't take photos in the Prado, where possible I've used my own photographs when I've seen some of the works elsewhere to illustrate this blog. Other photos are taken from the web.

This is a great exhibition and, if you're in or planning to visit Madrid over the summer, it's certainly worth seeing. Well done Prado and happy 200th birthday!